Yesterday, I went downhill skiing for the first time. I grew up skiing cross-country in the Chicago suburbs every winter -- we even had our own skis -- but my dad forbade us from downhill skiing. He is a doctor and had seen too many injuries to feel comfortable about it.
So I have always looked at skiing as something that other people did. It was too expensive, too cumbersome, and too dangerous. I love the snow, and I have taken my kids to the mountains for sledding, etc., for several winters in a row, but I had never tried downhill skiing.
To make a long story short, a unique opportunity arose on Thursday. There seemed to be a break in the rainy, snowy weather; the schools were on strike; and there is a new airline, Advanced Air, that runs a daily flight to and from L.A. and Mammoth Mountain, up north.
I decided to take the plunge -- and it was expensive -- and brought my two elder children along. Initially I had just wanted to see the snow, but then I thought of signing them up for ski lessons; they, at least, should learn. And then I thought: why shouldn't I try, too?
So I scheduled a lesson. And I nearly missed it: the rentals and so on took so long that by the time I had taken my kids to their lessons, I was already 45 minutes late for mine. But I met a kind ski instructor who agreed to teach me -- starting from the most basic skills.
I learned quickly. (She told me that I was the quickest student she had ever had.) I should have been afraid, but I wasn't -- partly because I had no time to be afraid, partly because I trusted my instructor, and partly because I really, really wanted to do this.
Within an hour, she was taking me up on a ski lift -- in blustering, blizzard conditions. I wished I could have taken photographs with my phone, but I did not want to drop it -- or to lose a ski pole. I took it all in -- the forest, the snow, the mountain and all of its mysteries.
I began to cry. I was so moved by the beauty of it, and by the fact that I was doing something that I had always believed was not for me. We reached the top and I began skiing down -- and I could do it. And it was so beautiful, with big, fat snowflakes falling all around.
I cried once more on the way down, and again as I said goodbye to my instructor. I told her that she had changed my life -- not just because I can now ski, but because I had confronted a lifelong fear. The sun came out; we flew back to L.A. 2 hours later, transformed.
This week'd portion begins the book of Numbers. Interestingly, the Hebrew name for the book is "In the Desert," not "Numbers." The portion, which happens to be my bar mitzvah portion, focuses almost as much on the names of the princes of each tribe as the number of soldiers it fielded. It also focuses on the configuration of the tribal camps around the central Tabernacle and the Levites.
So why "Numbers" instead of "Names" or "Places"? The numbers are, to be sure, a unique feature of the opening of this Biblical book -- but they are not the focus of the rest of the narrative. The Hebrew focuses on the place where the events in the book take place, because essentially this is the narrative of the Israelites' wanderings from Egypt to Israel, across 40 years. We move from the giving of the Torah and the construction of the Tabernacle in Exodus and Leviticus, to the final valediction of Moses in Deuteronomy -- Bamidbar is the story of wandering that happened in between.
The question of ...
This week's portion begins with the laws of the Sabbath and the Sabbatical year, and the Jubilee year that restores all land to its original (tribal) owners. It also explores laws of property and labor that will apply in the Land of Israel, and the laws of vows and inheritance.
The Israelites are presented -- not for the last time -- with the essential moral choice that they must face, and the rewards for choosing well, along with the consequences for choosing poorly.
We learn that doing good things will earn God's protection from enemies. That does not mean that victims of terror, God forbid, were sinful. But it does mean that we can respond to evil by committing ourselves to a higher path.
This week's portion describes the major sacrifices that are to be offered by the Jewish people, including those that are offered only by the priestly Kohen class, and physical requirements of the people (men) who serve in that role.
Inter alia, there are interesting commandments -- such as an injection to treat animals with respect and care, first, by letting a mother animal nurse her offspring for a week before being offered in any sacrifice; and second, by refraining from slaughtering an animal and its offspring on the same day.
The commandments regarding animals remind us of the purpose of those regarding human beings: to uphold a divine connection, through ritual.
https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/111878/jewish/Rabbi-Isaac-Luria-The-Ari-Hakodosh.htm
